Lucidity
by Scarlett Wilde
Summary: 2008 Dean has just one day left. But if there are demons that can take away your life, surely there's someone fighting for the other side who could give you that life back - for a small reward.


Title: Lucidity  
Rating: NC-17  
Fandom: Supernatural

Warnings: None

Chapters: 1/1  
Disclaimer: I own nothing of the SN franchise and I make nothing from writing this fic  
Summary: Dean has just one day left. He's managed to ditch Sam for the night, and now he can be found drinking alone in the motel bar. But if there are demons that have the power to take away your life, surely there's someone fighting for the other side who could give you that life back…for a small reward.  
Pairing: Dean/OFC  
Archive: please ask first  
Feedback: as always, please, but no nits or shreds thanks.  
Author's Notes: Probably been done to death but I don't read a whole lot of SN fics – just ones recommended to me

* * *

One day. That's all he had left. Sam was driving him nuts, but Dean had finally managed to slip his brother a mickey and get himself a little alone time for the night, along with a bottle of whiskey for company.

One more day. It wasn't long enough. He still had his to-do-before-I-die list tucked in his pocket with only half of it crossed off. Still, he'd have done anything to save Sam and it had seemed like a small sacrifice…until now.

One more fucking day. Damn it.

Dean drowned another whiskey in one and wished to heck that it would make him drunk but apparently his body was hell-bent on staying sober tonight.

"Hi," a woman smiled as she sat next to him at the bar.

"Well, hi back," Dean growled. At least things were looking up now.

"Mind if I sit here?" Her gaze raked the length of his body.

Dean felt for a moment like that should have been his line, his look, but not tonight. Not ever again. "Sure. Go ahead."

"You look a little lost up here all by your lonesome, sugar. Thought you might need some company." She signaled the bartender and ordered a margarita.

'_Shit. She's a hooker,'_ he thought as he tried to find some smart-ass reply.

"No. I'm not a hooker, Dean. I'm something entirely altogether different…" She watched as he went for a knife, or gun, or whatever was hidden in the back waistband of his pants. "Ah…ah…ah…" She shook her head. "I'm no demon either. But I do, however, have an offer for you."

"An offer? What kind of offer? Lady, I don't have nothing left to give any more." Dean kept his hand on the hilt of the lethal weapon hidden behind his back.

"Actually you do. What if I could give you your life back? You'd take that wouldn't you?"

Dean narrowed his eyes for a moment. "And who – what – would I have to give up to get my life back?"

The woman slowly raked her eyes up and down the length of his body again before answering. "No one, and not much. I would give you your life back in return for the colt."

"That's it? The colt? You want me to give you the colt in return for getting my life back? Lady, I don't know who you are…"

"Dean…Dean…Dean…" She sipped her margarita and smiled. "Think about this for a moment before you make any hasty decisions – because I can only make this offer once and that's it – if you believe in what's down there--" She pointed to where her black peep-toe wedges rested on the floor, "--doesn't it stand to reason that up there--" she looked up at the ceiling covered in gaudy balloons from some long ago celebration, "--exists too?"

"So what--" Dean struggled to comprehend what she was telling him. Damn, he must be drunk if he was seeing what? Angels? "So what you are offering me is my life back for the colt? You're not going to take Sammy away…or…"

"No. The thing is, some of us actually believe in you…in what you and your brother have been doing. But we believe you need each other to be able to continue doing what you do. Sammy will struggle to cope with your death, and he won't be able to follow his path for some time. When he does, he won't be the same Sammy any longer. We need him – and you – and that's why I'm offering you your life back."

"So, what are you? An angel or something?" Dean frowned. This was surely the bottom of the bottle talking. He was having a lucid dream.

"Or something. I'm not sure what the term for me is…maybe Angel would be right. But think hard and fast Dean, I can only keep this offer open for tonight."

"If I don't take it – cause that colt's a valuable thing – what'll happen to me?"

"You'll die, on schedule, tomorrow. But tell me this…what good will the colt be without any bullets? I mean, you could bash the demons on the head with it…give them a headache…but it won't be of any use will it?" The woman continued to sip her drink, licking her lips in between.

"So, you have a name or what?" Dean growled, knowing she was right. But knowing she was right didn't make his decision any easier to make.

"Name? I suppose you could call me Raphaella if you needed to." She finished her drink and motioned to the bartender, "You want another drink…bottle?" She smiled wickedly at him.

"Whiskey," he answered. "Raphaella, huh? Like the archangel Raphael? If I take this deal, how do I know you're for real?" In Dean's book, angels didn't exist. He'd never seen – or heard – of any other hunter coming into contact with an angel…and to him, that had to mean there was no such thing.

"Meh," she shrugged. "It's all swings and roundabouts. You don't have to believe in me, just in what I'm giving you. You'll just have to take a risk. That's what you do every day, isn't it? Why would this risk be any less than the risk you take every day, saving people you don't know? Dean, I can only offer you the deal; I cannot prove I am who you think I am until after the deal's sealed."

"And we seal the deal how?" Shit, it seemed angels, demons, underneath they all wanted the same thing from in the end. The way this woman's eyes raked his body over and over was starting to make even him feel dirty.

"I'm sure you know, Dean. Nothing beats sealing a deal than with a little body fluid shared during a natural act." She smiled, her eyes sparking wickedly.

Dean swallowed the drink in front of him in one go, slamming the empty shot glass down on the bar. He shrugged at his reflection in the mirror behind the counter. He had no doubts the woman was for real, after all, in his line of work, he was used to dealing with all kinds of freaky.

"Saying that I accept, we seal the deal tonight?"

"Yes."

"Okay."

"Think hard and fast, Dean, and let me know quickly."

"You have some place to be?"

"Don't we all? So, tell me, what's your answer going to be?"

"This…this offer…it's for real?"

"Yes, Dean. For real. I just wish I was in the position to give you your father back too. I can heal but I cannot resurrect. All I can offer you is your life back."

"And the Crossroads Demon?"

"I'll deal with that one, don't you worry. There'll be no more deals made by that one."

"This all seems a little too good to be true, so I'm sure you can see I'm having a little trouble dealing with it right now." Dean, if he was honest with himself, was having a whole heap of trouble trusting right now. Living his last week on earth was not something he had wanted to be going through at this age, but living his last day...

It had gradually worn him down, seeing Sam get more and more depressed at now being bale to save his big brother, when it should be the other way around, Dean should be looking after Sammy's ass. This deal would be his chance to make everything right, especially when it came to Sammy.

"Deal, Dean…and quickly. Times-a-wastin'," she smiled as she got off the barstool.

"Okay. How d'ya wanna do this?" Dean consented finally.

"Good. Get the colt and meet me in room 211. We'll seal the deal and you can go on with your life, fighting demons an' all." She stood on tiptoes and kissed his cheek before turning and walking out of the bar.

Dean watched for a second or two, his fingers raking the skin she had kissed. They had no bullets left for the damned colt, so she was right about that, it was no use anymore, other than for its value among relic hunters and legend seekers. And to hand that over for his life back, a life with his brother…small price.

Sammy was still sound asleep when he tiptoed into the room they were sharing. He'd given him enough sedative to keep him out for the night, but if he'd dared, he'd have given Sammy enough to sleep through the last day altogether. He hated seeing the hurt on his brother face…the pain…sorrow…

The old gun was in the room's safe, hidden in the closet and he was able to retrieve it without disturbing Sammy in the least. As he rode the elevator down to the floor below, he couldn't but say a silent prayer that no matter what happened – one way or the other – Sammy would forgive him.

Dean knocked on the door of room 211 and a voice called out 'come in' from the other side. The door was unlooked and he locked it behind him once he was in the room.

Raphaella was stood in the bathroom doorway, still wearing the black blouse and skirt she'd been wearing in the bar. She looked anything but angelic in the tight, figure-hugging outfit. He'd kinda expected to find her reclining on the bed in some skimpy nightgown – but perhaps that was just the female demons. He shrugged and held up the gun for her to see.

"Thank you Dean." She took the gun from him and laid it on the bed. "Now we seal the deal and you get another chance to live your life."

She reached up on tiptoe, taking his face between her hands and kissed him.

Dean favored her kiss over the Crossroads Demon any day of the week. His hands came from his sides to her waist as she deepened the kiss. His whole body felt alive. Some kind of peace and wellbeing flowed through his veins where not so long ago it had been anger and despair.

But just when he thought he had everything worked out, Raphaella broke the kiss and whispered in his ear.

"There are a few rules for this deal, Dean. Firstly, Sam won't remember anything when you wake up in the morning. Secondly, you have to live your life fully…no looking back, no regrets. And thirdly, keep doing what you do best…make this world a safer place to be."

Dean nodded. Tears filled his eyes. Her words echoed in his mind…

* * *

"Dude, are you ever gonna wake up?" Sammy was shaking the bed with an evil glint in his eye. "That must have been some skinful you had last night. I mean dude, really…"

Dean managed to open one eye and peeked around the room. His head was pounding from the inordinate amount of whiskey he'd consumed last night…but there was something else…

He must have been really drunk because he'd had one hell of a dream about angels and deals…and fuck! The awareness of this being his last day seeped into his fogged up mind and he rolled over in bed.

"Dean, c'mon…get moving. Bobby phoned first thing about a job in Texas…some Black Dog or something. He needs a hand. Come on…" Sam was stuffing his clothes in his duffle bag.

"Sammy," Dean muttered, forcing himself up on his elbows and cracking both eyes open.

"Dean. You're gonna have to get moving. The landlord's already rung twice about us vacating the room." The laptop was pushed into Sam's messenger bag and dropped by the duffle on the floor.

The details of the dream were slowly coming back to him…with a groan he forced himself out of bed and into the bathroom. Splashing cold water on his face woke him up and he stared at his dripping reflection in the mirror.

_Sammy won't remember anything… a chance to live again…do what you do best…no looking back…no regrets…_

He washed quickly, brushed his teeth and dressed in fresh clothes, then packed his stuff up. All the while aware of Sam's eyes on him.

"Dude, what is it with you this morning? I mean, I'm used to the frosty mornings but this is positively freezing." Sam chuckled.

"Well, normally, the scent of a case perks you up better than coffee…but not this morning it would seem."

"Thank you Capt. Obvious. Go empty the safe, Sammy, and we'll be on our way." Dean told him, taking one last sweep of the room.

"What the hell…" Sammy's voice was shocked and startled.

Dean dropped his bag and ran to his brother's side. In Sammy's hands was the colt and 13 bullets.

"Dean, what the hell?" Sammy looked at him, questions raging in his brown eyes. "There's a note there, too."

Dean reached passed Sammy and pulled out the note…

_A little gift for fighting on the right side, and for trusting. Use it wisely…no more second chances…R_


End file.
